Let the Colors Run Together

In two-thousand-ten I decided to finally try and keep a journal; one book dedicated to everything: drawing, keeping notes, addresses and planning. When traveling in Canada I lost this book which had a mountain of stuff for me to follow up. I had lists of: books, films, music, people, addresses, places etc... All was lost. It was heartbreaking, so I decided to start it all again when I got back home. I bought a little planner and in the months that had already past I decided to dedicate that to my addresses.

Each address had a drawing, here are a few of those with the addresses hidden by cassette labels (got to respect a persons privacy).

Julien Charbonneu

 Nicholas French

 Caitlin Durlak

 Ellen Holmes-Preston

 Conwae Burrell

 Laura Hill

 Rohan Bridge

 Pamela Rosel

 Heather Ogilvie

 Nathan Martin

 Lewis O'Leary, Liza Grace, Cameron Adcock, Marek Rygielski

 Holly Cartwright

 Muriel Van Der Haert

 Marnie Vaughn

 Stacey Wilson

Brittany Rogers

 These drawings aren't designed to represent the individuals who's addresses they accompany, they are just merely drawings. There was a storm recently and any ink that was not permanent or non-water based ran together with the rain water. 

Dream # 3

   It begins sitting in a line at Centrelink, as I have done many times before. Though somehow I end up in a situation where they are giving away what seems to be a lot more than usual. Being grouped together with those much less fortunate and slower to react than I, we are put into a small narrow room and sat down in little chairs, side-by-side. We are then spoken to by a person who shares the same charisma with that of an army drill sergeant, pacing back and forth, speaking loud and clear, and looking square. He tells us our options, one of which is to receive twenty and thirty grand incrementally each year that would go towards buying a house, there was no mention of a cut-off date, it sounded like an eternal amount of money. Another option he stated was that one of us could move into a house and Centrelink would give you fifty-thousand dollars which would then be put towards said house. There were a few more options mentioned, I couldn't remember them all, but I know that Mr. Drill Sergeant stated that one of us would go home with nothing. It felt similar to telling a soldier "Now some of you won't be coming back home alive".

I answered a question faster than anyone else, I don't remember what that question was, but what I do recall is that because of this I was allowed to take my pick out of all the options that were put forth to us, this suddenly felt like a game-show. My mind blocked up and I quickly spoke the only option I remembered "Fifty thousand dollars and a house!". A lucky feeling was flowing through my veins, I was the one who seemed to get the best deal. A still, yet remorseful morbid sadness filled the air, I remembered that some sad sucker got nothing when they very well might have deserved it more than me. Close-mouthed, I felt lucky that I could finally put my mother and I in a steady home where we wouldn't have to worry about money ever again.

Celebration started with me breaking the news of my luck to everyone. How I ended up with a house and fifty grand to go towards it. No-one else seemed to care or act as excited as I did, mostly they just thought of community housing. Suddenly I became so nervous with my decisions, I dreamed of houses made of chipboard, with no insulation and no electricity. I dreamed of houses with no windows or roofs, I started to wonder about the stability of the building we were about to relocate our lives to. What if a pizza box proved to be more structurally sound than the house I just condemned ourselves to? I realized, I never asked for a clear definition of what it would mean to take the route that I did, I was stuck in game show mode, so quick to react.

I have to remember, never to wander into the Centrelink Home Loan Center in my waking life.

Fuck Christmas

I really do hate this time of year, I have always felt removed from it. It's not that I ever wished for inclusion, it always just seemed so fucking stupid. Perhaps a Jewish upbringing can be an obvious reference point as to why I don't appreciate Christmas. Honestly though, it is a rather lowly tradition, why should anyone celebrate being dictated when and how to show your appreciation for family? Being forced to buy someone presents to show your affection for them. We all know what happens when you get the wrong damn present! Why even stress at all? 

I believe if you really loved someone, you would decide against such occasions like Christmas, you'd tell them that no matter what they think about the holiday that you truly do love them, but you do not feel that you need to express it in such a materialistic way. I am not saying you shouldn't ever buy the ones you care for presents, I am just saying you should never feel pressed to do so. Have you ever received random gifts? Don't they feel even better to receive, not knowing that they were coming? Christmas is a true testament to utter thoughtlessness and lack of a freethinking mind.

One simple example of such thoughtlessness is what is synonymous with this holiday. The blind wishing of "MERRY CHRISTMAS!". What an assumption! What if I don't celebrate it, and what if, even if I wanted to... I had no one to celebrate it with?

I once was asked what I was doing for Christmas, when I told that person I didn't celebrate it, they were shocked. I told them of my Jewish upbringing and that Christmas was never really a thing, it's kind of a crossing of religions. Not that I ever practice or really consider myself a Jew, it just never came about. The only answer I received was, "But... Everyone celebrates Christmas!!!"

No... Not everyone celebrates Christmas, I surely don't and there are plenty of other people and cultures in this world who do not celebrate it either. Pure ignorance. I wonder how much waste and clutter would be absent from this world if occasions such as this one, which I have been defecating over, did not exist. There are surely more things I could say in disdain about this lame observance, but I'd like to think I am finished with the frustration for now.

Dream # 2

Living with an alcoholic and potentially a rapist father, is tough to say the least and I can feel so vulnerable being his daughter. He is possessive of everything, his belongings and especially of me, not to mention obsessive over every minor detail. He loses his personal items and expects me to know where they are when I haven't the slightest clue. I am accused of taking them and threatened with physical abuse when I have no answer for him. When I decide to leave the house he makes out that his world is crumbling and if I don't come back soon enough or if I do anything mischievous (which is anything by his standards) I will be severely punished. I am always learning to deal with this harsh reality and try to counter balance his erratic behavior.

One night I decided to leave the family home, which isn't much of a family, just the father and I. As usual he demands for me to locate some of his misplaced belongings, to which I can not. He becomes enraged and I narrowly escape this time, and take with me a large screwdriver as a defensive weapon. When I am outside I notice across the street an obscene amount of dog excrement, and as I squint my eyes, What I can see on the curb is utterly vile, the skin of a dog. The face almost looks like a empty mask where only the eyes and the shape of a dogs face is missing. Who would do such a thing? To kill and disembowel a dog and leave the skin and its excrement on the side of the road? I look closer and I realize the remains of this poor canine are just outside a pet store. I feel oddly compelled to rush inside, so I do.

What I find inside is sickening, there is a small group of teenage boys and they are all waging genocide on the animals of the store. The lone worker there, too emotionally distraught to do a thing about it. I begin to call emergency services, and to my surprise after a long while waiting on hold, I am put through to the city pound. It becomes apparent that there had been so many calls they believed to be misdirected to emergency services that they just started redirecting most calls to the pound.

I demanded that someone come and see what wasgoing on down at the pet store.

I made the grim venture to the toilet, where I found one of the teenage boys raping a small dog, I ran out and a boy ran after me. I turn and make a swing at him with the screwdriver, but I miss, and he continues running past me. It seemed like he wasn't running after me at all. It all seemed so unclear to me, there is chaos in the home, and even more chaos when I try to escape what seemed like real danger.

Dream # 1

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